


I have loved you for a thousand years

by emmaofmisthaven



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5713294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of alternate POV fics and missing scenes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate POV for [this drabble](http://emmaofmisthaven.tumblr.com/post/100858516987/niniadepapa-just-nini-there-is-something)

It takes Kiera all of one day to understand this realm is just as, hmm, _tolerant_ of people like her as the Enchanted Forest was. Back there, she didn’t care all that much, mostly because she was at sea more often than not and her crew knew better than to judge. Back there, there was something delightful about Milah and her kissing in public only for people to glare at them. They go kicked out of a tavern once, the owner claiming he didn’t want money _from people like them_. He wasn’t talking about piracy.

Kiera has learnt not to care, but it is different now. It is different now because the woman she loves is a public figure, because the woman she loves is a princess, a sheriff, the Saviour. She has to care, if only for Emma’s reputation – if only so people will still adore and respect her, despite the glares thrown the pirate’s way.

Flirting with the one they call Red comes easy to Kiera then, because it is meaningless. There is something in the waitress’s eyes that Kiera knows all too well, even more so when the little librarian comes for her daily burger. Flirting with Red comes easy, the both of them just having fun with saucy remarks and playful winks. It makes Kiera’s days a tad less lonely, when everyone else is doing gods know what gods know where. Kiera knows better than to put her nose in royal business.

That is, until the crown princess herself appears in the diner. The ghost of her kiss still lingers on Kiera’s lips, but she forces herself not to focus on it too much – Emma’s pace is slower than a ship on a windless afternoon, and Kiera knows better than to push her luck by now. If Emma wants to spend time with her new (lovely, kind, _attractive_ ) friend Elsa, then so be it. If Emma wants Kiera’s company, then – the pirate has never been one to deny the princess anything.

(In public, though? That is a novelty.)

Kiera expects a conversation over a shared drink, perhaps even a plea for help. What she doesn’t expect are the words out of Emma’s mouth, the dart missing the target and for her own eyes to widen. What she doesn’t expect is the fast beating of her own heart as she turns on her heels only to find a bashful Emma in front of her, biting down on her lip and looking away from her eyes.

Kiera frowns and only finds to ask, “Two women together, isn’t that frowned upon in your realm?”

Not that Kiera wants to care _but she does_. She shouldn’t be putting her chances of wooing Emma in jeopardy with such questions, should focus on the happiness blossoming deep within her chest at the mere thought of Emma asking her out, of Emma wooing her back. But it is the land without magic, and people are very much frowning upon them now, so Kiera needs to know. Kiera needs to be sure Emma accepts her, and them, and everything it entails.

But Emma shrugs, the motion of her shoulders somewhat forced.

“Like you care about people’s opinions.”

Kiera hesitates, for a moment alone – she doesn’t care, but she does, and there lies the problem. But she also thinks of Emma in a dress, maybe, and those curls of hers Kiera saw in pictures all over the Queen’s loft. She also thinks of Emma’s lips, painted red or pink for the occasion. She thinks and thinks, a grin curling up her own mouth.

“Only if you let me plan the evening, then.”

Emma’s insecurities soon turn to indignation at Kiera’s words, and the pirate grins even more so. Oh, what a night it will be, she thinks as she already makes plans for the evening. She’ll have to ask Red for a dress, probably, and the address of a good restaurant, and perhaps also for some money that isn’t gold doubloons if she wants to do things properly. It’s a lot, and it may be complicated to plan but –

But when she sees Emma in that pink dress, it is all worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missing scene from [write you a love song](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3736258)

Killian’s first, and major, error is to stare at all the rolls of fabric on the table – including faux fur, bloody hell – for long minutes, before he asks if this is really worth it. Emma gets worked up immediately, which is always equally frightening and endearing, puffing her cheeks and glaring at him like he insulted her family on three generations. She’s talented at a great many things – the awards on the shelf behind her a reminder of said talent – but overacting to thing is her greater skill. It’s also why he, along with a bunch of other people, has his job. Emma overreacts, everyone else reacts accordingly.

“We are invited to the Harris-Burtka’s Halloween party,” she reminds him and accentuates each word, like he’s a slow lad struggling with his maths lesson. “You’ve seen the pictures, everyone has seen the pictures. We can’t just rent costumes and hope for the best.”

He smiles then, as he makes his way closer to her until his can wrap his arms around her waist. They’ve only been dating a couple of months, and are still navigating the waters of this new relationship, but she leans into his embrace anyway. Even upset, even with a frown on her face, she puts both her hands on his chest and look up to him.

“Has anyone told you you’re competitive?” he asks.

That manages to brings a smile to her lip, and Emma slaps his chest in retribution for his words. “No, that’s brand new information.”

He grins at her and tugs her a little closer, until she falls against him into a hug. Her arms wrap around his waist and she leans her cheek against his chest, right where his heart is. It’s a habit of hers now, one that never fails to warm Killian from the inside out. This beautiful woman who still doesn’t believe someone could love her as much as he does, it still baffles him to no end.

“Fine. Waste your money on costumes if you so wish. But don’t come complaining when your accountant loses his shit.”

She grins and beams a little – he knows even without seeing her face, because she bounces on her feet even so slightly when she does so. “Perfect!” she exclaims. “Your fitting is in half an hour.”

“My _what_?”

 

…

 

Killian doesn’t scare easy. He has seen enough weird stuff in his life not to startle at loud noises, and been through enough horror movie marathons with Emma to build a high tolerance to anything that could elicit a scream of terror from him.

It doesn’t stop him from being startled when the door to Emma’s house opens.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting, because he is wearing his own costume right now and was perfectly aware they were all wearing outfits from the same theme, but. But Henry wearing a Wookiee costume with only the furry head missing – well, that would startle anyone not expecting it, really.

The costume is quality, of course – handmade to fit the boy perfectly, with the belt thrown over the shoulder and everything. It may have cost Emma a lot, but it came with quality, so Killian can’t really be that mad at her for wasting her money like that. (He knows she didn’t always have money to waste, and so goes out of her way sometimes.)

“Aren’t you boiling in that thing?” Killian asks.

Henry shrugs a little. “Nah, it’s okay.”

He’s taller with each passing day, well in his teenage years now. Killian can’t wait until he grows taller than Emma and she starts freaking out. Because she will. But for now, Henry is more of the size of an Ewok than that of a Wookiee, and Killian smirks to himself a little. He can’t really help it.

“Where’s your mother?”

Henry rolls his eyes – teenager years through and through. “Upstairs.”

With that, Henry goes back to the living room, and Killian catches a glimpse of a bowl full of candy. They won’t be at home for the evening, leaving way before the first trick-or-treaters come knocking, so obviously the mini Mars bars are not for children. No doubt the Wookiee will be on a sugar night tonight, which can only be interesting.

Still, Killian barely lingers on the thought as he makes his way upstairs. It’s still a little strange, living in that big a house – not officially, but he sleeps here rather than in his own apartment more often than not these days. Never would he have thought Emma would buy a house in Hollywood, leaving Boston for good, but she surprised him by settling in at the end of her last tour. Said she wanted some roots somewhere, and he can’t help but thinking she wants root with him. He wants that too.

He knocks softly on the door to the bedroom before opening it. Emma stands in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting her costume. She looks breathtakingly gorgeous in her crown braid and white jumpsuit, slipping into the sleeveless jacket that completes her outfit. She refused to dye her hair, even temporarily – “there are limit to everything!” – but she makes a perfect Leia nonetheless, ready to brave the cold temperatures of Hoth. Or the mild temperature of Los Angeles.

“Your Highnessness,” he says as he enters the room, opening his arm in a mocking bow.

She glares at him through the mirror, unable to swallow down the grin that blossom on her lips. Her double dimples appear on her cheeks even as she focuses back on her outfit, adjusting it one last time to make it perfect. He stands behind her, watching their reflexion in the mirror – their outfits match, of course, because Emma wouldn’t have it any other way. Competitive and perfectionist, the way she always is in her work.

“Scruffy-looking Han Solo,” she laughs as she turns around, fingers brushing again his unshaved cheek.

Killian can only smirk, perfectly aware of what she’s doing. “Who’s scruffy lookin’?” he asks, in a very poor rendition of an American accent. He’s always been bad at those.

Emma smirks back, those damn double dimples flashing once more. Happiness suits her so well, and Killian can only be proud to be one of the few people allowed to make her happy – privvy to her most intimate thoughts and feelings, when she is most private about everything in the public eye, when her fans only know what little knowledge she offers them of her private life.

She leans her forehead against his, rising on her tiptoe as her hand settles on his jaw. It’s simple yet so much more than what it appears to be – it’s Emma letting him in, and Killian knows better than to take it for granted.

“I love you,” she tells him. Easy. Simple.

He knows better than to take that for granted, too, even if his heart beats faster at the three words. It’s her first time saying them, even if Killian already knew of her feelings for him – she never would have dated him otherwise, and so he gave her time, followed her pace and waited for her to come to term with everything.

“I know,” he replies with a grin.

It seems appropriate, and not entirely unwelcomed if Emma’s snort is anything to go by. He’s pretty certain she did it on purpose too, maybe not ready to hear him saying it back. That’s alright. He can wait a little bit longer for that too – he has all the time in the world, after all.

He can wait, but he still leans closer to her, his lips brushing against her.

“I’d just as soon kiss a Wookie.”

Killian groans, and kisses her anyway.


End file.
